Blackout
by adelheid23
Summary: This wasn't a good day for Penny to end up trapped in an elevator with a stranger. Especially since that stranger was the Joker. Set before The Dark Knight. Joker/OC.
1. Chapter 1

"And so, we leave today the secure walls of an institution that has, for the most part, only required a firm grasp of theory and we leap into the great unknown of ...corporate strategic planning."

Penny groaned and slapped the sheet of paper on the desk.

"I'm the worst," she mumbled and fell back in her chair. "This speech is the worst."

She had twenty minutes left before she could pack her things and go. She'd asked the head of department if she could leave early. The middle-aged woman had frowned, displeased.

"What's this about?"

"My graduation, actually."

She was graduating business school and although she'd never told anyone at the office, she was valedictorian. That probably meant little to anyone not currently attending Gotham University, but it had been her mother's dream that her daughter follow in her footsteps, so Penny really didn't want to botch up her valedictorian speech.

Too late.

She scribbled some lines with her pen until they were almost illegible. The ceremony was at five. That left her with two hours to get ready. Well, one hour and a half. She'd have a long way to go to reach her apartment building which was across town.

"Well, hello there, Mrs. Robinson. Heard you were graduating."

Penny looked up in mild confusion. Ryan was standing at the entrance to her cubicle, annoying smirk plastered on his face.

"Anne Bancroft was the mother, not the graduate," she replied, rolling her eyes. Ryan had a penchant for misquoting movies. And everything else, in general.

"I knew that," Ryan said, grinning widely. "Still holds up."

Penny knew where this was headed. He'd make some dumb save by arguing that they were both hot.

Before he had the chance, she got up and straightened the folds of her dress in a gesture that clearly indicated she was about to leave.

"I gotta go. I'll be late otherwise."

Might as well skip those twenty minutes, after all.

"Wow, you look fancy."

"Yeah, I er, bought a dress for the occasion."

She felt embarrassed to admit she liked to dress up for these events. She was wearing a green number, very smart and elegant, but decent and professional. A mixture between a summer dress and an office outfit.

"We have to celebrate tomorrow, or tonight, if you want. Brent's got this place in the suburbs, it's got a nice backyard…"

"That's really cool, Ryan, but the investors are coming in tomorrow, remember?"

Ryan slapped his forehead comically.

"Right, right. Slipped my mind. But who cares? This is a special occasion."

Penny shook her head. "No, it's not. The only thing to get excited about is that I'll stop being a temp around here."

Ryan walked her to the elevators, while she fumbled with the clasp on her messenger bag.

"So, you know, call me if you change your mind about the hang out. Actually, call me even if you don't. I want details."

He winked at her suggestively. Penny smiled diplomatically.

"Will do."

She liked Ryan. He was _okay_. Kind of a joker, though. She didn't know if that was an age thing. He was older than her, but he acted like a kid.

He liked to flirt with her sometimes, but nothing too serious. She hadn't really connected with anyone at the office. They saw her as that college kid who'd been hired because she liked to do the work no one else did. They didn't respect her for it.

But now, maybe things would change. Maybe she could legitimately interview for a real position. She'd been working with the firm for two years. That had to count for something.

The elevator went down at snail-pace. She shook her legs to try to get rid of the nervousness.

The speech would be fine, she told herself. No one listened to those things, anyway.

When the doors opened, she practically stormed out, hair coming out of her braid. She untangled it as she went through the double doors and waved goodbye at the doorman.

Penny shook her hair free and looked in both directions for a cab.

Yes, it would cost her a lot more than a bus ride, but this was her graduation. She had to prepare and she had to be on time.

* * *

The Bloomherst Buildings Complex used to be, if not the most prestigious, at least the best looking living area in the neighborhood. Now, it seemed rundown and old-fashioned thanks to the new modern buildings surrounding it. Only half-senile elderly people or nutjobs lived there now. And someone who couldn't afford rent, like her.

The cab driver gave the place one glance and she could already tell he wanted to get out of there. It wasn't that it looked unsafe or unsanitary. Crime and violence on the block were sparse. This wasn't a really bad neighborhood. Not unless you were looking for trouble.

No, Bloomherst made you want to leave because it looked fucking depressing. As if it could suck all the happiness out of you once you went inside.

It wasn't entirely untrue. Whenever she had to return to her little apartment, she always felt like she was going back underwater, after a day on the shore. But it was home, for now. And you grow fond of home, no matter where that might be.

_Okay, you've got an hour to rewrite that stupid speech, maybe take a shower and iron press your dress again …oh, and eat some leftover Chinese before you leave if it's still any good, _she told herself as she stepped inside the building.

It was always dark and damp around afternoon. Dust moats floated everywhere, making her wheeze. The place looked deserted. It was the hour when most of the elderly people living there took naps.

She stopped in front of the elevator. The carved wooden frames used to shine elegantly and give off an impression of wealth. Not anymore. It was like the entire place was the abandoned Titanic ship. It had been glorious, once, but those days were over.

Someone was coming down. The doors opened.

If there was one speck of happiness in the entire building, though, it had to be ...

"Mrs. Levenstein," Penny greeted cheerfully. "How are you today?"

"Oh, Penelope, darling, is that you?" the elderly woman asked, setting her glasses on the tip of her nose. "You look different today."

Penny beamed. She liked old Mrs. Levenstein. She would always call her up when she happened to bake a new batch of cookies for her nephews. They rarely visited, but she liked to be prepared, just in case they did. Penny felt sorry for her and jealous of her family. She could have used a grandmother like that. People who had them didn't know how to appreciate them.

"Are you going on a date with a young man?" Mrs. Levenstein asked, winking.

Penny laughed. "I wish. It's my graduation day actually."

Mrs. Levenstein's eyes lit up.

"Oh, sweetheart! That's wonderful! I'm going to make you something really special tonight, as celebration."

Penny smiled. She preferred this to Brent's backyard.

"Thank you, but you shouldn't trouble yourself –"

"Trouble myself?! Darling, you speak nonsense as usual," she replied in her nasal voice Penny found so endearing.

The door to the building swung open and a sliver of light was cast on the old granite floor.

"I'll be only too happy. You know, Eli has to retake the third grade. My nephews don't seem destined for academic achievement. So, at least I have you to be proud of. You're still top of your class, aren't you?"

Penny blushed slightly.

"Something like that."

"Naturally. I wouldn't expect anything less with all the work you put in. Too much work, I'd warrant. And all work and no play," Mrs. Levenstein said, mischievously. "You know what they say about that, don't you?"

Someone stopped behind them. A young man, by the looks of it. He was waiting to get into the elevator.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, I know, Mrs. Levenstein."

The man raised his head slightly. Penny noticed him from her peripheral vision. He seemed to be in his early thirties. It was strange to see someone younger than fifty in the building, besides her.

"That's right. And you'd better start playing soon, or you'll end up like me," Mrs. Levenstein joked, shaking her shoulders in laughter.

"Well, I'd better leave you to it. Wouldn't want you to be late! And remember, tonight –"

But she stopped short and cursed under her breath.

"Oh, drat. I forgot. My son is taking me out for dinner tonight. It's his birthday, you see. Oh, that's a shame, I really wanted to spend some time with you-"

Penny shook her head.

"Please, don't worry on my account. It's more important to spend time with your family."

She couldn't help the small bitterness that found its way in her voice. Everyone else had a family.

"Oh, you practically _are_ family, dear. Listen, I'll call you tomorrow and we'll have a grand time together, all right?"

Penny gladly agreed and Mrs. Levenstein swooped in for a hug. Meanwhile, the man standing behind them had already stepped into the elevator.

"Tell him happy birthday from me!" Penny said at the last minute.

Mrs. Levenstein waved and mouthed "Of course!" as she left the building.

The doors to the elevator were about to close, but the man put a hand between them and parted them easily.

Penny heaved a sigh.

"Thank you. Sorry about that," she said, although it wasn't clear what she was apologizing for.

She stepped inside and stood next to him while the doors were closed shut with a small chink.

He cleared his throat, fingers hovering over the buttons.

"Oh, right, sorry, I'm on the seventh."

The man nodded. He pressed the seventh and then the eighth button.

"Oh, convenient," she mumbled, looking down at her feet.

The elevator started its slow ascend.

Now that Mrs. Levenstein wasn't taking up her attention, she could finally look at the stranger properly.

He looked very…un-Bloomhersty.

He wore black jeans, a black T-Shirt and a very shabby-looking beige shirt over that. His hair was odd too. Dirty blond and slightly curled, but entirely disheveled, like he'd slept in a barn.

The weirdest thing, though, had to be his face.

Penny didn't get a good look at it since she was standing by his side, but from his profile she noticed that, what could have been a moderately handsome face was marred by an ugly scar. She couldn't see much of it, but it seemed to cover most of his mouth and cheeks.

His small, black eyes suddenly turned on her. Their expression was stark.

She quickly looked down, embarrassed.

He'd caught her looking. He must've been offended she was staring at his scar. She was mortified, to say the least.

She wondered, though, when he'd moved in. She didn't know about any new tenets and Mrs. Levenstein would usually tell her everything.

Unless he was visiting someone. That seemed unlikely, considering it was Bloomherst.

Maybe he was someone's son or nephew.

As she was staring at the floor tiles, she noticed the heavy bag he was carrying. It was stained in several places with paint; blue, red, green, violent…

Was he a painter?

She didn't have time to wonder any further though, because the elevator was now on the sixth floor.

_Just one more. _

The noise came from above. Metal rustling against metal. Then, a scrap of hooks, then silence. The elevator started slowing down. She groaned inwardly. It sometimes did that. She'd have to walk up the stairs to the seventh floor, _again_.

Penny was about to turn to the stranger and tell him he'd better get off with her on the seventh floor, when suddenly, she was hauled into his arms by a tiny earthquake.

Except, it wasn't an earthquake.

The elevator had dropped somewhere between the sixth and the fifth floor and had literally floored them in the process.

The lights went off completely and a small, blue neon light blinked shyly above their heads.

In the first moments, Penny had no idea what had happened. She felt as if someone had hit her on the head and she was just coming to.

But the warm body underneath her felt real.

She realized she had collapsed on him. Her cheeks burned with renewed shame.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry…"

This was the third time she was apologizing. It was beginning to sound like a habit.

She felt his large hands on her waist and the scratchy fabric of his shirt on her neck.

Penny scrambled out of his awkward embrace with more or less dignity, while trying to find the strength to get back on her feet.

Her green dress was probably ruined. Or at very least, unwearable to her graduation.

The young man didn't seem to mind that she had accidentally accosted him. He got up without much trouble. His movements were graceful and feline-like.

She looked up at him. She was still on her knees. His scar was both more and less visible. In the soft blue light its shadow looked like a crater carved into his skin.

He suddenly extended his hand towards her.

Penny didn't hesitate. She took it and he helped her up easily. He had a strong grip from what she could tell.

"Thanks. I lost my balance."

"We all do, sometimes," he spoke, for the first time. His voice was smooth, but hoarse, like he had a toothpick stuck in his throat. He sounded much older than he looked.

"Not your fault anyway. Damn elevator," he added, pointing at the shut doors.

"Yeah, it tends to do that. Old thing. I'm sure it will start up again, though. Blackouts here don't last more than ten minutes or so."

"Let's hope it's just a blackout, then," he said, looking up at the neon light.

He pressed the emergency button twice, for good measure.

Penny brushed her skimmed knees and tried to make sense of the state of her dress. It was salvageable.

She took out her cell phone.

"Oh, crap. No reception. That doesn't usually happen."

The man didn't take out his cell phone, if he had one. He leant against the mirror-wall, hands in his pocket, head bent forward.

"Guess we'll have to wait it out."

He seemed completely calm, as if he knew the building better than she did.

Penny kept fiddling with her phone. "I'm gonna try and send a text."

Five minutes passed in silence while she crunched the buttons on her phone and he walked around the elevator, staring at the walls or at himself in the mirrors.

"I sent four texts. Hope someone gets them. Calls don't seem to work. Have you tried yours?"

"Don't have it on me, unfortunately," he replied. He didn't sound upset about it. Merely peeved, as if it was a small inconvenience.

Penny pressed the emergency button.

"I already did that," he informed her.

"Doesn't hurt to try again."

The man shrugged his shoulders. He was staring at his reflection.

Penny chanced a look in his direction. She understood why he was staring. The soft blue light made him look like a strange ethereal being. She approached the mirror. Her usually vibrant red hair looked almost black now.

"Well, that's a new look," she commented.

The man cast her a sidelong glance.

"I prefer the red."

She turned to him, slightly put off. This stranger barely knew her and he was making comments about her appearance. As if they were on a first-name basis.

Penny shook her head. _You're being weird. He just made a joke._ _You started it, anyways. _

"How much longer do you think it will be?" he rasped, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Um, not much longer, I think. It's never gone this long before."

She wondered if one of the kids had played with the elevator board and now they were stuck. No, kids rarely came here. But it was a possibility.

"I'll try calling again."

"Didn't you say it doesn't work?"

"Well, I have to keep trying," she replied, bristling. She was beginning to feel the tension one feels when one is confined to a small place. Her temper usually got the better of her in such situations.

It was better than panic, though.

The man gave her a cursory look as she paced the small room, phone glued to her ear.

"Definitely prefer the red," he muttered to himself. His tongue darted out, licking his scar.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** So, second chapter is here! Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, am really grateful for the positive response :) thanks to **Joker21** and **Guest** as well, cuz I can't PM you. anyways, I hope you enjoy this one too :)

* * *

The lights hadn't come back on even after Penny's estimated ten minutes. And then another ten minutes. And then another ten.

Time was ticking by slowly. The soft blue light was starting to give her a headache. Trickles of sweat were falling down her spine and she felt every last drop of heat and the way her dress clung to her skin. It was like being in a sauna.

"...hope you get this message," she droned out, shutting her phone with a click. Her voice was getting hoarse. She had already sent out ten voice messages in the hopes that one of them would make it through and get her out of there.

Her current "roomie" was keeping it together far better. He was still calmly watching her. She didn't notice his eyes hadn't left her figure.

"Maybe it's, uh, time to give it a break," he said, nodding towards the phone.

Penny looked up from the blue screen.

"I mean…you're wasting battery."

"Well, what else am I gonna use it for?" she asked, a bit too forcefully.

"The neon up there? It's a backup light. Won't hold out forever, not in this building. So it's not a bad idea to have another light source around."

Penny had to admit it wasn't entirely illogical.

"I'm hoping by the time that happens, we're already out of here."

The man smiled and the skin around his scar darkened.

"That's the spirit."

Penny wiped the sweaty screen phone with the hem of her dress and dropped it in her purse.

"I guess the GPS will tip the firm I'm not dead, just stuck," she muttered sardonically, leaning her shoulder against the wall.

"Firm?"

Penny hadn't realized she'd said it loud enough for him to hear. Privacy was going to be an issue in this small place.

"…where I work," she said, cautiously.

"So, you're an important business lady, huh?" he teased. She was about to contradict him, when he raised his finger and continued.

"No, don't think so. An important business lady wouldn't live in this shit hole. She'd also be older. No, I'm gonna go with…assistant or coffee girl."

Penny looked downright scandalized.

"I'm no coffee girl! I'm a temp. Temps basically do most of the hard work and handle all the small accounts. I just get paid less." _I also require a supervisor_, she should have added, but she chose to omit this detail.

_Wait, why did I tell him anything to begin with?_

The man licked his lips and she could have sworn she saw his tongue darting out.

"I see. I've offended you."

"Well, there's a big difference between me and a coffee girl," she muttered angrily. She'd never willingly admit she sometimes picked up coffee for the head of department.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. Didn't mean to put you on the spot. I make jokes. They're not, uh, very good, are they? It's fine. I'm just a bit under the weather. Work gets to me."

Penny sized him up in one look, trying to figure out what kind of guy he was. Was he someone she'd usually reject at a bar? Was he one of those guys with a lot of stupid lines?

"Are you a stand-up?"

The man stared at her for a few moments, as if trying to process the information. Then a smile curled his lips into a grin.

"Not with this crowd."

Penny rolled her eyes. It wasn't her fault he wasn't funny.

"But since you asked, I'm curious. Try and guess."

Penny didn't want to play games right now. In fact, she wasn't a big fan of games in general. But she had time to spare, didn't she?

Her eyes darted almost unconsciously to the bag at his feet, the one stained with several shades.

"Are you an artist?"

His eyes widened considerably. He followed her gaze and this time his smile was genuine.

"Why, I don't think I've ever heard a better description. You found the perfect word for my field of work."

Penny had no idea whether he was joking or being honest. But he seemed pleased. So she must have said something right.

If he was an artist, it would explain his disdain for the business world. She didn't really care for art, not as much as she'd have liked to admit. She enjoyed a book and movie just like any person, but she'd never really gone into the reasons why.

"So, temp, huh? But you're aiming for the big office for sure," he said, confident that he was right.

Penny folded her arms. "Not exactly. I mean, I want to get a stable position, that's all."

The man tilted his head, almost mocking her.

"Everyone says that. Everyone says they only want a slice. But they're all hoping they get the big fat cake, aren't they?"

Penny squared her shoulders. She felt like she was being accused of something she hadn't done.

"The big fat cake can give you diabetes," she replied evenly.

The man snorted. "That's never stopped anyone."

Penny didn't really care to prove him wrong. She pulled back some limp strands of hair from her face. She would have given anything for a shower right now.

"I don't think it's a blackout anymore…" she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

The man seemed slightly put off by the change of subject, but he adapted quickly.

"What gave you that impression?" he teased.

Penny frowned. She was in no mood for another one of his "jokes". She didn't care if the man was some bohemian reject; she reserved the right to feel like shit.

"The elevator is probably broken," she said, sternly. "Which means no one will be able to use it. Which also means someone will figure out what happened."

The man seemed to consider her deduction carefully.

"Well, let's count'em off, shall we? You've got Mrs. L who just left the building and is not coming back till…"

"Probably tomorrow afternoon. She's staying with her son in the city," Penny told him, her insides churning.

"One down. Then there are those funny broads living together on the fourth floor…"

Penny remembered what Mrs. Levenstein had told her.

"Gone on vacation to Hawaii."

"Three down. That elderly couple on the fifth?"

"They're at home. No, wait. They're repainting their apartment. They're staying somewhere else."

"Five down… That leaves that cat lady living on the first floor."

Penny shut her eyes in frustration.

"And she never uses the elevator cuz she doesn't have to."

The man made a "poof" sound with his hands.

"That's all, folks."

Penny turned away and grabbed the rail, holding it tight until her knuckles went white, trying to come up with plan B. There was always a plan B.

One thing was clear though; she wasn't going to make it to her graduation.

"Shit."

_The key is not to panic. And breathe. Breathe a lot. Just br- But the oxygen will run out eventually. _

She shut her eyes. She couldn't think like that. There was still time.

"You okay?"

She almost wanted to laugh. Of course she _wasn't_ okay, why would she be okay? Was _he_ okay? He was so fucking calm, it almost set her off.

"No. We've been here for over an hour and nothing's happening."

"We'll get out, eventually."

Penny rolled her eyes. He could be really thick.

"I know _that_. Someone from the firm will track me down tomorrow morning. Even Mrs. Levenstein will check on me at one point, but that's hours away. Maybe _days_. I can't afford that. Can you?"

That's when she realized she hadn't asked him if someone would find out if _he_ was gone.

"Wait, what about you? Will someone look for you?"

The man snorted again. "Not likely."

"No relatives, no friends?"

He opened his arms in a helpless gesture.

"People don't like artists."

She tried to suppress the sigh of disappointment. _Gee, I wonder why. _

"Your folks are gone, aren't they?"

She froze. Her skin turned several degrees colder, even though she was sweating like a farm animal.

"W-What?"

"Your ma and pa. The poor suckers who gave life to you. They're dead, aren't they?"

For a moment, she was left speechless. She wasn't used to people talking about death trivially. And she'd never heard anyone talk about her tragedy like it was some great big joke.

"That's none of your –"

"You asked _me_ about relatives. It's only fair."

"No, it's _not_. And I'd appreciate it if you refrained from talking about it."

Her tone was icy, stern and admitted no further argument. The man held one hand up in what was meant to be a conciliatory gesture. But he didn't look sorry at all.

His tongue darted out again and this time she could clearly see he was licking his scar. He caught her looking. He always caught her looking. His eyes were very sharp.

"Old habit I can't quit," he explained, smiling.

Penny was almost tempted to ask him how he got that scar, but she was not going to talk about personal issues. No fucking way. Not after he'd mentioned her dead parents like that. How had he known anyway? Was it that obvious? She didn't want to be pitied. And she certainly didn't want to find a reason to pity _him_.

He was some antisocial asshole who probably never talked to girls.

She fished out her water bottle from her bag and took a refreshing, but small gulp. She was trying to save as much of it as possible.

He'd gone back to staring at himself in the mirror.

Penny sighed. Despite her resentment, she held out the bottle to him. She might not like him, but she wasn't a monster.

He seemed surprised by her gesture.

"Just take it."

"So, you're nice business lady."

"I thought we'd established I'm not a business lady."

"Then you're a nice _temp_."

He took a swig of her water and when he craned his head to drink she could see the soft skin of his neck glinting in the blue light. Two drops of sweat were gliding down into his shirt.

She looked away quickly. For an antisocial asshole, he wasn't completely...off-putting.

He handed back her bottle. Their fingers brushed briefly.

"I'm Jack," he said matter-of-factly.

Penny didn't know how to respond to this information. She only stared at him.

"Now you tell me your name."

She hesitated for half a second.

"Penny."

"Penny, Penny…Moneypenny. It suits you."

She almost smiled. She'd had many nicknames growing up, but no one had called her Moneypenny.

"And you're supposed to be Jack of all trades?" she asked lightly.

"And master of none," he finished, taking a bow.

She refrained from chuckling.

"You know, you have a way with words, Penny."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I don't see it."

"Oh, but you do. You call'em like you see'em, eh?"

Penny felt embarrassed again.

"And I bet people don't appreciate that. Just like they don't appreciate my jokes."

Penny looked at him sheepishly. Half the time she had no idea what he was on about.

"Don't worry. Someday they will."

The words felt more like a threat than a promise.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: and we're at chapter three! I was really floored by the number of reviews and encouragements I received, it's really helpful since I'm pretty nervous about my stories. I'd like to thank everyone for reading and reviewing and being kind, in general :)

I'd also like to thank **KatieMarrie** and **dEnIsE tHe StRaNgE** whom I can't PM.

Really hope you enjoy the chapter.

**P.S.** I'd take everything Jack says with a grain of salt, if you know what I mean.

* * *

Penny blinked back a small tear that was threatening to escape her eye. Almost three hours had gone by and they were still stuck in the semi-obscurity of the overly heated elevator.

Her chest hurt from the pressure. She took steadying breaths from time to time, but nothing was really helping her. She couldn't swallow the water. It felt like drinking sand. She couldn't stand still anymore either. She was all jittery. Everything was making her nervous.

Everything, except Jack.

True, she thought he was a weirdo, but so far, he'd been a harmless weirdo.

He was trying to lighten up the mood in his typical way.

"Two more hours and I'll have missed American Idol. I'm rooting for that Kimberley chick, the one with the buckteeth. Everyone's in love with Dwayne, but I like an underdog."

Penny had given up on trying to shut him up, because even if she didn't like to admit it, his silly ramblings made it easier to bear her current predicament.

"I've always wondered what I'd do on national television. Everyone goes in trying to impress the public, make a good first impression. Me, I'd sit there quietly, like some dumb fuck who can't read. Matter of fact, I'd tell them I can't read. I'd tell them my mother never let me go to school. That's it. That's all I'd have to say. And just you watch, I'd become America's sweetheart in the blink of an eye. Poor kid who never got a break, who was deprived of "man's basic human right to education". I'd probably get a check for one hundred thousand dollars or something. To pay for some liberal arts college. And I can't even read!"

Penny was pacing back and forth, hardly listening.

She held her arms folded to her chest and went over everything she had done so far and could further do to alleviate the situation.

"Wait...you can't read?" she asked, pausing.

Jack chuckled. "I guess I can. But if I were on national television..."

Penny shook her head, already lost in her own thoughts again. His voice was akin to the buzz of the neon light.

Jack frowned, watching her pace mechanically. She moved her fingers rhythmically, counting down an invisible list of items in her head.

"What're you doing?" he asked, rolling his head against the wall. He was sitting down, hands in his lap, the picture of a scolded child who'd been sent to the corner.

She held one tightly-clenched fist to her mouth in deep thought as she kept counting down with her other hand.

"I'm gonna get dizzy from your walking," he told her, a bit louder this time.

When he saw she was still not responding, he got up gently and stood in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders to stop her.

"Moneypenny."

"Huh?"

She looked up in surprise. His hands were like an anchor, pulling down a floating ship.

"You need to sit down."

"I – I can't."

"What are you counting, anyway?"

"The doormen's schedules. At the firm. I want to figure out which one's got tomorrow morning's shift."

Jack's hands shook her shoulders lightly.

"You're only making it worse."

Penny felt a bout of nausea. His closeness was oddly perturbing. It was probably the scar, she thought. She'd never seen it this close. She stared at it freely, forgetting about the inappropriateness of her actions.

He didn't flinch. And she realized he didn't mind her staring. She'd only imagined he'd be insulted. He seemed completely comfortable about it, in fact. An irrational impulse almost made her lift her fingers to touch it. Would it feel rough or worn?

She stepped away from him, losing the warmth of his palms on her collarbone. The confinement was doing things to her head.

"It's okay. People are always curious about it," he said, guessing her line of thinking.

"I'm not – I mean it's none of my business."

"Wanna know how I got it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. His eyes searched her face, two black dots, glowing like burning coals. He could see she was curious.

Penny shook her head.

"No, I wouldn't want to pry. Besides, it's too personal."

"Well, might as well tell _someone_. I won't get another chance in the near future."

When he saw her alarmed expression, he quickly corrected himself.

"Not that something's gonna happen to us. We'll be fine. I know we will. But people don't listen much to me in real life."

Penny seemed in two minds about it. Jack was her only living contact at the moment. The only person who knew she was there. A forced intimacy was bound to arise.

"Come on, I'll tell you if you sit down with me."

Penny looked at the floor reluctantly. Her legs felt stiff and sore but she knew the awful feeling would not disappear if she sat down.

Jack misunderstood her apprehension.

"Ah, the lady needs a comfy seat," he said and with a fluid, catlike motion, he pulled the beige sweater over his head and put it down on the floor.

Penny felt something like a blush tinge her cheeks. She felt ridiculous. She didn't want to think of Jack as attractive, because it was only a trick of the mind. Getting stuck with someone for some time meant growing more or less attached to that person, sometimes. And she did not, under any circumstances, plan on doing that. His bare arms might have been nice to look at and his slender figure in that T-shirt was nothing to frown at, but she was above that kind of immature thinking. Especially since she'd been in the company of more attractive men without getting flustered.

"Er, thanks. You didn't have to, though."

"I insist," he said in a mock-playful tone.

Penny thought it would be rude to refuse now after he'd sacrificed his shirt.

She knelt down gingerly, pulling her feet underneath her. She felt the familiar scratchy fabric against her calves.

He plopped down next to her as gracefully as before.

"It was getting too warm anyways."

Penny knew there was half an arm's length between them, but she still felt slightly antsy. She leant her back against the wall and tried to shift further away without seeming impolite. Her hands started playing with the hem of her dress.

"So, where were we? Oh right, the scar. Well, it's not a very pretty story. Just a warning."

Penny chewed on her lip.

"I'm not a big fan of pretty stories."

Jack smiled. "You say that now..."

"Would I be living here if I were?"

"I don't know, you might be some kind of romantic, hoping to get whisked away from this place."

Penny sighed. "Either tell me, or don't."

"Patience isn't your forte, I see. Well, here we go. It was – I think it was about twenty years ago. Can't be sure about these things."

Penny stared. How could one not be sure about such things?

"I was probably ten. I remember watching _Andy's Funhouse_. Kaufman did comedy like no other. Mind you, he hated the term."

Penny quirked an eyebrow.

"Sorry, sorry. I get caught up in the details. My bad. So anyway, my dad came up to me one day, as I was watching _Andy's Funhouse_ – cuz you see, I had it on tape. It was my favorite thing in the whole world. I'd gotten it as a gift from Uncle Terry. Oh, Uncle Terry was an eccentric. You'd've liked him. Right, sorry. So, my dad was in the mood for a fight. I know what you're thinking. Here's another story about some kid knocked around by a drunk bastard. Well, you'd be wrong."

He paused, letting the statement sink in. Penny waited, curiosity making her less nervous.

"He never touched alcohol. Said it was the devil's loins. He was sorta confused, my dad. Anyways, he didn't drink. He was just a bit cheesed off. Violent by nature. What? You don't think you can be violent by nature?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.

Penny hadn't shown any signs of disagreeing and she wasn't sure if it was just a rhetorical question.

"My pop was living proof of that," Jack continued, staring at the wall in front of him.

Penny watched the shadows play across his profile. The scar was smaller on this side. It made him look almost normal. Almost.

"But don't think I resent him or something. It was pretty interesting, living with a guy like that. You never got bored, you know? And I'd rather get surprised than bored."

Penny sat very still now, listening intently.

"Would you rather get surprised or bored?" he asked, not looking at her.

She mulled it over.

"I'd rather get bored," she answered, at length.

Jack chuckled. "You're right. If we only got bored, we wouldn't be here in the first place."

Penny didn't think there was a connection between the two, but she kept quiet. Somehow, the question had unsettled her on a deeper level.

"Ah, sorry again. The story's dragging on. I keep stalling. It's not like there's a grand climax or anything. It's just that, he saw me watching _Andy's Funhouse_. He didn't like that show, he didn't like laughing and singing and dancing. That was not his crowd. He got angry. He said it was trash. Old man wouldn't know satire if it hit him in the face! But here's how it happened. It was the end of the pilot and Andy Kaufman came up on screen and started talking to the audience. He read the words of wisdom for the week. I remember. They were "Whatever is unknown is magnified." They were written in magnified letters on a blank screen. Pretty damn brilliant, right? Pop didn't see it that way. He kept asking, what the hell does that mean? I tried to explain it to him but he just got angrier. He said, oh so you think you're smarter than me, huh? You think you know more than I do? You're a funny man, aren't you? Funny, funny man. I said sorry, I said it's just a dumb show. But he dragged me back to the kitchen to teach me a lesson in quality television. And I could still hear Andy Kaufman saying goodbye to the audience from the living room. He said, "don't be afraid of what you don't know, because remember, it always seems a lot worse than it really is." That's what he said. I kept hearing those words. _It always seems a lot worse than it really is_."

Penny waited with bated breath for him to continue. But he didn't. He turned to her with a lazy smile.

"Kind of like our own problem. We're stuck in a tiny box inside a bigger box, but it always seems a lot worse than it really is."

"What happened after that?"

"Hm?"

"After he dragged you in the kitchen."

"Oh...yeah, that. I don't remember, really. I just remember waking up in the hospital with my face covered in stitches. I looked like a goddamn mummy."

Penny blinked, mystified.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"I'm sorry. That's...that's horrible," she said, shivering. It was even more disturbing than if she had heard the full account. She was left to fill in the blanks and the image she came up with was terrifying.

"Did he – I mean, you were a minor. And he abused you. Didn't he go to jail?"

Jack frowned, as if the possibility hadn't occurred to him.

"I guess he could've gone to jail. But I never said anything. Ma didn't either. Uncle Terry talked to dad. And dad left. I don't know what Uncle Terry told the old man, but he disappeared without notice. Must've spooked him somehow. After that, Uncle Terry took care of us."

"And he's been gone ever since?"

"Pop? Yep."

"What if you run into him one day?"

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Well, you can't run into a dead man, can you?"

Penny frowned. "Oh. How did you find out...?"

Jack smiled, looking in the distance as if he were remembering a pleasant memory.

"I didn't. I just did it myself."

Penny wasn't sure what he meant. "Did what?"

"Put a pillow over his face, then a knife through the pillow," he muttered to himself quietly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," she said, inching closer almost unconsciously.

"I said I went to the hospital he was at before he died. I left the room before he kicked the bucket."

"Did he recognize you?"

Jack smiled.

"He recognized these," he said, pointing at the widened scars. "Said it was a work of art. Better than _Andy's Funhouse_, anyway."

Penny wrinkled her nose. "That's awful."

"Just goes to show the artistic gene runs in the family," he said, alluding to his own artistic inclinations.

"Nothing about this has any resemblance to art," she argued, shuddering.

"Well, you know, it's been a couple of years and I'm starting to see his point."

Penny was nonplussed.

"You can't be serious."

Jack smirked. "Why not? The scars single me out. I'm that drop in the ocean you see. You can't ignore me. Meanwhile, people like you barely manage to get out of the sea. I find my way better."

Penny scrunched her eyebrows. "What do you mean, people like me?"

"People without scars."

Penny was about to ask him why he thought she didn't have any scars, but she thought better of it.

"Well...that was some story."

"Told you it wouldn't be pretty. Your turn now."

Penny raised her head in alarm.

"My turn to what?"

"Your turn to tell me a story. It's only fair."

"I don't think that was the deal."

"There never _was_ a deal," he pointed out.

"True, but I didn't make you share that story with me. You told me willingly."

"Well, I'm hoping you'll return the favor. _Willingly_."

Penny sighed. "Personal topics aren't my thing."

"I promise I won't ask about your folks."

Penny's features grew sterner.

"I didn't mean _that_. That is off-limits. I'm not discussing that with you or anyone."

Jack raised his palms defensively, a gesture she'd become familiar with.

"I know, I put my foot in it again."

Penny shrugged it off. "I don't have any stories to share."

"Now, we both know that's not true. Even today, even today had a story. What was it?"

"What makes you think there was a story?"

Jack's black eyes roamed over her figure. They seemed to linger at the round bend of her knees.

"You're dressed up for something special."

Penny hesitated. It didn't really matter if he found out about her graduation, did it?

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter now. I've missed it anyway."

"Missed what?"

"My graduation. I'm graduating business school."

Jack started back and whistled. "And I thought you were just heading to some fancy party. Well, congratulations."

"Thanks..." she replied morosely.

"Sorry you had to miss your big day."

"It _wasn't_ my big day. I mean I took it more as an obligation. I'm not that torn up about it. I'm actually glad I can throw away that stupid speech..."

She winced. She'd said more than she'd intended to, yet again. She'd been letting her guard down. Not good.

"Speech?"

"It's nothing, really."

"A speech is not nothing. It's at least two paragraphs long in my experience."

Penny snorted. His jokes were terrible, but she could've laughed at anything right now.

"Wait a minute, if you're giving a speech..." he trailed off, putting two and two together.

She grimaced. "It's just business school."

Jack turned his body towards her. "Not for you it isn't. You must've given a shit about it at least once or twice."

Penny smiled wryly. "Once or twice," she agreed.

"Why don't you read it to me?"

"What?"

"Your speech. Let me hear it."

"No. Absolutely not," she replied resolutely.

"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad."

"It's not that," she said, her cheeks getting red, "it's the fact that I don't feel like going through an already ridiculous formality just to please you."

Jack shook his head. "You're a stubborn one, Moneypenny. All right, let me read it, then."

"No! Why do you want to read it so much anyway?"

"I told you, I'd rather be surprised than bored."

"My speech is not for your entertainment."

"No, but I bet it'd surprise me," he replied, winking.

Penny groaned tiredly.

"You've got nothing to lose," he persisted, as innocently as possible.

She rolled her eyes and dragged the abandoned messenger bag towards her. She fished through its contents impatiently.

She didn't want to argue with him anymore and if she were perfectly honest, she would have liked a second opinion. Who better than a complete stranger?

"Here. Knock yourself out," she told him, slapping the crumpled paper a bit too forcefully on the floor between them.

Jack grabbed it hungrily. He squinted his eyes as he poured over it quickly, his face a mask of concentration.

Penny watched him idly. She'd forgotten how worried and anxious she'd been half an hour ago. She remembered the five stages of loss. She was probably somewhere between depression and acceptance.

Jack reached the end of her speech and saw her full name written at the bottom of the page.

"Penelope Liss. Hang on... Penny Liss. Your name is literally..."

"_Penniless. _Yeah," Penny finished for him bitterly.

They had never called her Moneypenny. They'd called her Penniless. And now he knew too. At this point, she found she'd stopped caring.

Then, Jack did something that startled her.

He laughed.

Not his usual low chuckle. A full-on fit of laughter.

It jolted her as if she'd been electrocuted.

His laughter was high-pitched and hoarse at the same time. It came from the depths of his throat, gurgling its way out of him as if he were choking on his own saliva. It had an eerie, almost old-fashioned quality to it. As if people didn't laugh like that anymore, with their entire body and face.

"Penny Liss," he repeated, gasping for breath. "Brilliant. Kaufman would've loved _that_."

Penny's features darkened. She knew he'd have the same reaction as everyone else. She'd been taunted about her name for as long as she could remember. It didn't help that she was in a bad financial spot. She'd always been rather penniless. It was almost as if the name was a curse.

She realized Jack had stopped laughing.

He was staring at her, all traces of humor gone from his face. One hand reached for her arm. It grabbed her gently but firmly.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice suddenly cold and hollow.

Her eyes widened.

"Don't ever let _anyone_ laugh at that name again. Do you understand? _No one_ must laugh at your name again."

His grip tightened on her elbow.

She pulled away, frowning.

"You just did."

Jack nodded. "And I'll be the last."

"I can't just make people respect me. It doesn't work like that."

"It's not about respect, Moneypenny. It's about fear."

"So, you think people should fear me."

"No. But they're only gonna stop laughing when they fear the name."

A long silence stretched between them as his words sank in.

Penny was unable to come up with a reply. She was dumbstruck.

Jack handed her back the piece of paper.

"The speech is all right. Just needs a rewrite."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: chapter four! Sorry for the delay, I've been a bit busy :) Thanks so much to everyone for the lovely reviews, I'm always a bit shocked when I get your responses, I'm really happy the story is drawing you in so far :) Also, thanks to the anonymous reviewer **Sicknote**.

This chapter is a bit shorter, because it's more atmosphere than dialogue. I chose to end it at a point where pressure escalated enough so that the next stage of their shared intimacy would be a bit different (next chapter). Hope that makes sense :)

Please enjoy :)

* * *

Six hours and only two battery lines left on her phone. That and the bottle of water was ¾ empty.

This was worse than last October during lunch hour when she got stuck in the supply office. This was worse than the time she was nine and got stuck on the cliffhanger at the amusement park. This was worse than being locked up in her cousin's bedroom for Thanksgiving. He wouldn't let her out until she admitted her name was "Penniless".

And now this stranger knew about that awful nickname, too. It's not that she was still tormented by it, but the guy who was only supposed to be a neighbor and nothing more now knew something really embarrassing about her past. Then again, she knew something – well, not embarrassing – but very personal about him, too. In fact, Jack had shared a very dark part of his childhood with her and then proceeded to act completely unfazed by it. As if they'd known each other for years. And yet_ she_ was the one feeling embarrassed.

But it was more than just embarrassment. After their previous discussion, he hadn't mentioned anything else about the "fear comes with the name" rhetoric, but she was still vaguely unsettled by it. It had only been a couple of months since the Scarecrow's attack. She still remembered the whole business with the fear gas. Her memories of that night were not perfect, but they were vivid enough. There was chaos and smoke in the streets, people were running in all directions, hitting each other or falling to the ground; many were screaming and cowering in fear and the whole of Gotham looked and sounded like a hellish world of nightmares. She had woken up in the hospital with a concussion. No surprise there.

She wondered if Jack had brought it up _because_ of Scarecrow. She had time to think about these things now. There was no pressure to get anywhere. All she had was dead time. And this state involuntarily brought back memories of a similar period when time seemed to have died. These past two years had not been easy on Gotham. She thought about all those nights she had had to beg someone to carpool with her because the streets weren't safe anywhere, she thought about the shots she used to hear in the distance in every neighborhood. They had become background noise. She thought about the triple locks on her apartment door. She thought about the pathetic way she'd loiter around the firm's mini bar for hours just so she wouldn't have to go home. Even everyday problems at work had become small hiccups in the face of a much larger issue; the economic crash that had started with Wayne Industries and ended with Wayne Entertainment. People were talking about the irreversible decline of Gotham. There was a general sense of pessimism and no one believed things could get better.

And then, miraculously, they did. The stars aligned, as they would later say. First came the Batman, a whispered legend turned reality. The vigilante who started a movement. Slowly, the city regained a sense of trust and safety, which allowed Wayne Enterprises to get back on its feet. The real turn-over was its conversion to a public corporation. And of course, the fact that Bruce Wayne now seemed to give a damn about it.

These thoughts kept her occupied and distracted her from the immediate reality. They gave her purpose, something to do beyond pacing, sitting down or staring at Jack when he wasn't looking.

She wondered if her current predicament was some kind of punishment for refusing to take the stairs. She'd seen movies about this sort of thing: the absent-minded protagonist gets into a potentially dangerous situation because they didn't realize everything around them was trying to kill them. But she wasn't absent-minded. You couldn't be absent-minded in Gotham. Even the young ones were taut as spring. No one ever blinked.

And was it her fault she lived on the seventh floor?

All she knew was that if she ever got out of here – _stop thinking like that! you will!_ – she would _never_ take the goddamn elevator again.

Jack had taken something out of his bag and the sound pulled her away from her musings.

It was a blobby thing in saran wrap. When she took a closer look she realized it was modeling clay.

"Might just get some work done," he explained, unwrapping the clay carefully.

"Oh?"

"I wanna use my hands. You know what they say about idle hands…"

Penny was looking down at him. From where she was standing, he seemed small and childlike. The modeling clay was like a finishing touch on a little boy's portrait.

When you got closer to him, the illusion faded. His skin, his muscles, his scars, defied that image. But from afar, Jack reminded her of solitary youth.

Penny brought her hands to her temples, applying pressure slowly. She had glued to herself to the wall, in an attempt to get cooler. If only she could remove her dress… These were moments when she wished Jack was not there, so she could lie naked, truly naked, and not have to worry about being seen.

"What are you making?" she asked, after a while.

"Oh, some of this, some of that," he muttered, immersed in his modeling.

She could see his sticky fingers kneading and pinching and moving delicately in a rhythm of their own. It entranced her. She wondered if his fingers were colder than the wall. The thought vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

The truth is, she was so miserable and bored she could have invented any excuse for a distraction. But she didn't want to start another conversation with him. Not right now. She didn't want to hear him talk about sad childhoods. It was too depressing. And she didn't want to reveal another embarrassing detail about herself.

Instead, she waited and watched and sank further into a calm sort of despair. She closed her eyes and her breathing slowed down. She would get through this. _She would get through this._

This was only a stop along the way. A stone in her shoe.

When she opened her eyes again, she was staring at a bat.

A yellow bat had been stuck to the opposite wall, its wings spread out clumsily. Jack pressed two fingers on the tips and stretched the clay.

He looked at the finished product with pride.

"Whaddaya think?"

Penny blinked. "It's…yellow."

"If I made it black or blue you wouldn't be able to see it in the dark."

"Isn't that their whole point?" Penny asked. "That you can't see them in the dark?"

Jack smiled. "This bat I wanna see."

"Are you a Batman fan?" she asked boldly. She'd seen kids draw bats in their notebooks, on their backpacks, even on their skin to show their appreciation and undying admiration for their hero.

"Who _isn't_ a fan?" His face seemed to be glowing. She imagined artists, especially, would be inspired by a dark savior whose trademark was a brooding bat.

"It's comforting to know he's out there," she said, although she didn't feel very comforted at the moment. There were things the Batman couldn't do, such as rescue people from elevators he knew nothing about.

"He's an odd sort of fella. Too much of a martyr. Big appetite for violence."

Penny raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean? He's trying to prevent violence. I don't think he enjoys it."

"Sure he does. I mean, that's why he's a martyr. Haven't you read the stories in the gospels?"

"I guess I skipped on those."

"You know those sick bastards that came after Jesus, there was a whole group of them. They liked to get stabbed in the eye, have their tongues cut out and their limbs pulled off and fed to the animals. Some enjoyed getting burned at the stake, others, getting flayed alive. Those were the sickos. Those were _martyrs_."

Penny realized how dry her throat really was. She didn't want to waste what was left of the water. She swallowed down the saliva with some effort.

"You're saying the Batman is like that."

"I'm saying…well, you'd have to be a little crazy to go out in a cape," he said, sniggering to himself.

"It's good for camouflage," Penny argued.

"Maybe he should be yellow, like my bat. Come out and face the music."

Penny frowned. "That would be a terrible idea."

"Ah, I don't know what I'm saying. I guess I'm tired. Don't take my word for it. The Bat's a good fella. He's a good fella and that's what matters."

Penny tilted her head to the side. Either the enclosed space was affecting him too, or he was talking in riddles.

The flickering light from above was growing weaker by the minute. They were both aware it would go out at some point.

What would happen then?

The question seemed to stretch between them like a tight rope.

Jack chose to sit down again. He started making another clay bat. This one would be bigger, brighter.

She bit her lip. She almost wanted to laugh, but he was at least coping with their situation. She was just…being.

She brought her fingers to her temples again. She wondered how the graduation had gone. They had probably called her name. They had probably waited thirty seconds before moving on. One of her professors must have mentioned he was regretful she was not present and that she was a bright, ambitious young lady who was sure to succeed later in life.

_No, that's what he would've said if you had been there. _

Regardless, they would have applauded because she had been nice and helpful to everyone. They would have applauded because she was harmless.

Her chin was falling in her chest. She was half-asleep, dozing off like a third-grader in the middle of class on a hot summer's day.

A foreign warmth made her skin itch. It was spreading around her like a small fire, but its shadow was growing bigger. She smelled paint, clay, sweat and something akin to gunpowder.

"There, that's the last one," he mumbled, stretching the wings above her head with his sticky fingers.

Penny was shaken from her slumber and his hands dropped to their side.

She first looked up and saw the vague outline of something yellow glued right above her hairline, and then her eyes met his torso. And slowly, timidly, rose to his face.

He was staring at the bat. She was staring at him. The scars looked like fresh ink. His dry breath came in and out in short puffs from the effort. Behind him, other yellow bats were glued to the walls. There must have been at least seven. He hadn't wasted any time.

His forehead became wrinkled. The bat was not sticking right. He lifted his arms again and applied pressure to the clay.

She was encased in the small space of his arms and she dreaded to look left or right.

Penny brought her own hand to her neck and held it there, because she was afraid she might reach out. He wasn't moving away, he was standing close enough so that if he spoke, she would be able to taste his words and that confused and unsettled her. Personal space was becoming an illusion.

"I can't breathe," she confessed.

The oxygen had diminished considerably and with him standing there so close, the warmth was unbearable.

For a moment, it seemed like he hadn't heard her. Then, he rested one hand againt the wall, right next to her face and the other one reached out and wiped away the beads of sweat at her forehead. He barely touched her skin.

It was both soothing and unnerving. She squirmed away.

Jack smiled, his scars cracking like old leather.

"I think I have an idea."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**: chapter five! managed to upload it a bit faster this time around:) Many, many thanks to all of the wonderful people who read and reviewed, you make my day. Special thanks to anonymous reviewer _**wouldsomebody** _for the kind words and interesting take on the story and Penny.

I'm curious to know what you think of this chapter, things are heating up and getting weirder at the same time:)

Enjoy!

* * *

Seven hours had passed and her battery was almost dead. The bottle of water was…somewhere. She couldn't find the energy to look for it. To top it off, she had to pee. And she knew she wouldn't be able to hold it in forever.

Jack was crouched over his bag, fishing through it with purpose. He seemed to have all the energy in the world.

Penny watched him, saw his eagerness and dared to hope. If he'd gotten an idea, maybe there was a chance they could get out of there faster, because her mind was a blank and unless one of them came up with something soon, they really would have to spend all night there.

She was usually the ideas girl in any situation. It felt weird to stagnate so completely and watch someone else take over. But that's what happens when you've been deprived of water, food, oxygen and space for a large amount of time.

Not Jack, though. He _looked_ tired, but he definitely _wasn't_.

"Come on, where's that old thing…" he muttered as he rummaged through his bag.

"What are you looking for?"

"Just my can opener."

Penny frowned. How did he always manage to say something weird?

"Can opener? How would that help?"

"I'll show you when I find it."

Penny willed herself to move from the wall. Her back was growing stiff. She flexed her knees. Her skin was even clammier than before. She was pretty sure that if she collapsed right that moment, she wouldn't even realize it. It felt like she was sleepwalking.

"Eureka!" Jack cried victoriously.

He was holding a common-looking can opener, nothing special, but to her, it looked like the golden chalice.

He went to the double doors that were still firmly shut and jammed it in the small space between them, wrenching the handle towards him as if he were trying to tear off the metal.

Penny figured out what he was trying to do, but she couldn't possibly imagine it would work.

"I don't know if that's enough," she said, drawing nearer.

Jack was undeterred though. "It's got to."

"Doors magically open for you?" she asked, but the sarcasm was barely there.

"In more ways than one," he answered, panting. He put his entire weight into it, bending his body in outlandish positions as he tried to make the doors break apart. It looked cartoonish.

She couldn't suppress a giggle.

Jack peeked at her over his shoulder.

"Looks like I'm trying to break up Romeo and Juliet," he said and he whistled, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Penny chuckled again, too tired to resist his childlike humor.

"Need some help?"

He smirked. "You think you're stronger than me?"

"No, but I'm sure you've never used a can opener in your life," she said, suppressing a smile.

Jack laughed. "Ah, Moneypenny, sharp as always."

It was so strange, how familiar they had grown in the span of hours. He was calling her Moneypenny, she was throwing jibes at him and yet they were complete strangers and many times during this unfortunate occurrence she had felt downright uncomfortable around him.

She still did, but that somehow didn't prevent the familiarity.

_Maybe he's forcing you into it_, a tiny voice in her head told her, but she ignored it. Jack was at least trying to help. She had to give him credit for that. He wasn't bad, she could tell. He was an oddball with a bad childhood and some remnant scars. But he wasn't bad.

"Well, here, try your hand. I think we'll need one more item," he said, throwing her the can opener.

She surprised herself by catching it. Jack threw her a thumbs up which made her smile.

Penny tried to go about it a different way. She didn't jam the can opener between the doors. She rose on her tiptoes and stuck the gadget in the space between the ceiling and the doors, trying to see if it would open there.

She heard Jack ransacking his belongings. He was probably not very organized. Artists rarely were.

She could feel a kind of release of pressure from the metal casing, so she thought she must have done _something_ right.

And then she had an epiphany.

"What if the elevator's actually stopped at one of the floors and not in between? What if we could get out?" she asked, feeling a sense of elation taking over her.

"Let's hope your words are gold, Moneypenny."

He came up behind her and she saw the shimmer of something long and slim in his hand, then there was a loud clang above her head, and the rest was darkness. There was no light anymore. The small neon light had finally died out.

"Shit," she cursed, holding out her hands in front of her, frightened. "Jack? Jack?"

"Right here."

And he was, right there. Right behind her, breathing down her neck. His eyes were trained on the large kitchen knife he was using the pull the doors open. His hand was on the handle. It moulded to his grip perfectly, as if he'd used it many times in the past. And he had.

But she couldn't see. She couldn't see anything.

"Don't panic. It's, uh, it's just the dark, you know," he continued, and his voice vibrated against her hair. "It's not an enemy. It's actually pretty friendly once you get to know it."

Penny wished he could see how hard she was rolling her eyes. She stepped back only to bump into his chest. He was impossibly near again and the space was even smaller.

_Goddammit, not again. _

It was like a dance she couldn't avoid. Perhaps two people in a box really couldn't help but collide.

Penny tried to duck under his arm and escape the cage, but he sensed her movement and took a step towards her, effectively closing her off. There was only a thin layer of air left between them. She had no choice but to lean her face against the doors.

"Stand still, Moneypenny. I think these lovers are gonna finally say goodbye."

She heard a scraping sound, like metal on metal, only harsher and when she looked up, she could see the shimmer of something long again, swishing through the darkness.

_Not a clay bat, that's for sure._

"What are you doing?" she asked and her voice came out raw and resentful. She was back to discomfort.

"Just a sec."

"Why do I have to stand still?"

"Because if you move, you make me move too. It'll all be over soon."

The noise almost deafened her. The elevator gears were howling like hungry hyenas or dying whales or any other terrifying animal metaphor she could come up with. Either way, it sounded ghastly.

And then, she was falling.

The doors had opened quite unexpectedly and the sudden, delicious intake of fresh oxygen was followed by an absence of gravity as her body literally fell out of the elevator.

And she would have probably fallen to her death.

But his arm was there, locked around her waist, holding her gently and firmly.

Her upper body was leaning out of the elevator, arms grasping air helplessly. Her hair had fallen over her face like a heavy curtain, blocking everything around her. She was literally hanging by a thread. Jack was only holding her with one arm. His other hand was holding the kitchen knife.

His hand was warm under her breasts. His fingers spread suddenly, sending jolts through her body. His thumb brushed against her nipple by accident. He was cupping one breast.

"Jack," she croaked, finding her voice.

And it was as if he'd snapped out of a trance.

He quickly pulled her up towards him and she collapsed against his back, breathing hard. He almost lost his balance, but he didn't remove his hand.

Her head was in the nook of his neck and she turns towards him, cold and shaking.

"Jack," she spoke and her lips accidentally touched his jaw.

His hand drew comforting circles on her stomach.

"It's all right, Moneypenny."

She couldn't spit out the words. She wanted to say thank you, but his hand was still there. And he had touched her in an intimate way and she couldn't go back. How do you go back?

"Ah, afraid we're stuck between floors," he spoke into her forehead.

She turned her head and saw the cold hard wall in front of them. Impenetrable, colorless bricks staring back through the dark.

She suppressed a shiver.

His chest was warm, though. Warm and sweaty. His T-Shirt clung to his skin like a wet towel and her dress clung to him like he was wearing it instead, like he was wearing her.

And she didn't really know anymore, familiarity or discomfort?

His hand moved from her stomach to her thigh.

"Can you stand?"

Penny nodded her head, but she didn't move. His hand had stopped. It was resting, waiting on her thigh.

_What am I doing? _she wondered.

She'd heard about ecstasy. She supposed almost dying, then _not_ dying could make you feel immense joy.

She had been suspended and now she was back on firm ground. She had been weightless and now, his palm weighed more than the whole goddamn elevator.

_He only did it to save you_, she reasoned in her head. _He wouldn't have touched you like that otherwise._

"Thank you," she managed to say at last.

Jack smiled into her hair. The handle of the kitchen knife was sticking out of his back pocket.

"Did you think I was gonna let you fly?" he asked lightly.

_Yes. No. I have no fucking idea. _

"I – I'm sorry about your can opener."

"Huh?"

"I think it fell down there."

Jack shook his head. "I don't care about that. I've got something better."

Then in a very soft whisper, almost inaudibly, he mouthed the words "a pretty blade."

"What did you say?"

"I said I've got a pretty girl."

Penny would have blushed, but she'd heard lines like this from Ryan and Brent too many times.

She finally managed to extricate herself from his hold.

The spell was broken.

"What, you don't believe me?" he asked in a mock-hurt voice.

She couldn't see his face in the dark all that well, but she knew he was smirking and the scars were probably smirking with him.

She dared approach the edge of the elevator. She looked down into nothingness and shrank inwardly.

"Long drop, eh?"

"Jesus."

"You're fine. Just don't lean out too far…not sure I can catch you a second time."

Penny stepped away.

"Told you I had an idea. Now the lady has all the fresh air she needs."

Penny knew he was there, she could even see his outlines. But hearing his voice in the dark and nothing else made her crave for their previous embrace, just so she could feel another presence, another body near. She didn't like to think of him as a disembodied voice. He was like the Cheshire Cat.

"That's true," she admitted, taking a deep breath. "Thanks."

There was a gaping hole where the doors used to be, but it offered oxygen. And she breathed it all in.

"You don't happen to have a lighter, do you?" she asked.

"Don't smoke."

"Oh. I see."

"I think your phone's dead."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorta knocked out. Gonna sit down for a while," he told her and he silently removed the knife from his back pocket as he lay down on the floor, in his familiar corner.

Penny stood in the middle of the elevator like a lost child. Her head was swimming and everywhere she looked, it was pitch black. She almost wanted to lie down next to him, just so she wouldn't have to stand this absolute sensation of nothingness. Without his voice in the dark, she truly felt alone.

But Penny had been alone many times and this, though exponentially worse, was no different.

The oxygen had revived her. She clenched her teeth, balled her fists and slowly sank to her knees. First thing, she was going to find her bag and take out some napkins.

Second, she was going to find a light source, no matter what.

Jack watched her in the dark as shadows moved across the mirrors. He smiled and traced his thumb over the knife's razor edge. He caressed the knife in a way he had almost caressed her.

Penny found her bag and fished out some napkins. She dabbed her face, her hair, her chest. She wiped away all traces of fear, or tried to.

There had been blackouts before and she had survived them all.

Besides, it couldn't be that bad. Even if she felt alone, she wasn't. She had Jack.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**: chapter six is here! I know this is an extremely late update, but school sort of kept me busy for a while and this chapter took more time to write. I'm a bit nervous about it, since **big** stuff happens. I hope you like it. Can I just say that I never expected this story to get so many reviews? You guys are wonderful and I love you, so I hope I don't disappoint you. I try to do my best.

Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

Some people are afraid of the dark because they have no idea what they might find there. Penny was afraid of the dark because she knew there was nothing. And that nothingness scared her because there was no object to fear, no subject to fear it, which meant she was alone with her own thoughts. And her thoughts terrified her more than anything.

Now, she was still afraid, but it was different since there was also Jack.

Having someone with you in complete darkness is comforting. Knowing that someone else, just like you, is going through the same experience, cushions the blow.

You know there is a subject, after all. And he feels fear, too.

* * *

She thanked the gods for her napkins. They seemed like the only dry thing in this humid universe. She pressed the wads to her forehead. Her head was pounding. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark to a certain extent. Somewhere in that tunnel of dead air there was light. This darkness was not endless.

"Hey, do you want some napkins?" she asked.

"Nah, keep them," he replied in a gravelly voice.

Every five minutes or so, she would call out to him with a random question.

Sometimes it would just be, "Jack?"

And he would promptly answer "here".

Her phone was dead, but holding it in her hand, feeling the weight of it, almost gave her a sense of balance. Like any moment the screen would come back to life.

"Jack?"

"Here."

She hadn't told him what to say, but he seemed to know. Talking too much would have distracted her. Not talking at all would have made it worse.

"Here" was a lovely compromise.

His voice was soothing, to some extent. She sensed some emotion in it. She couldn't identify it, but there was an intensity to it that hadn't been there before.

_Maybe this is how he copes with fear_, she thought.

She wasn't sure if he was afraid, though. Jack seemed to fall in with every new situation like clockwork. Maybe his aloof weirdness protected him.

Something rolled out of her bag and fell through the opening down into the tunnel. She stood still and waited to hear the familiar clang of an object hitting the floor.

It came far too late.

She tried not to think about it.

More items came out of her bag but she made sure nothing escaped her grasp. She spent some time combing through everything, taking some form of comfort in the activity even though it proved fruitless. She found her headphones at the bottom. She thought she had lost them. She stuck one in her ear, pretending she could hear something that was not there.

She waited for several moments before speaking.

"Bad news," she said, pressing the napkin to her smudged eyeliner, "I can't find any light source."

"Mmm. Yeah, thought so. Anything that can go wrong _will_ go wrong, you know," Jack replied in a resigned fashion.

"I guess we have to…" she trailed off, not really knowing what they were supposed to do.

"…wait," he finished for her.

"Patience has never been my virtue," she murmured.

"Mine either. But I wouldn't worry. It's coming."

"What is?"

"The moment when something will happen."

Penny wondered if he was being cryptic on purpose.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, things have been going in one steady rhythm only, shall we say. But I see a change on the horizon."

Penny put down the napkin. "Are you for real right now, or just talking out of your ass?"

Jack laughed in that tooth-picky way of his that made her nose wrinkle.

"Talking out of my ass."

She chuckled, exhaling softly.

"_God_. How did we end up here? How did this happen to us?"

"You mean in this elevator or Bloomherst?"

"Both."

"We were dealt a bad hand, Moneypenny."

Penny pushed her now rather useless bag aside and leant against the opposite wall.

"Bad hand, huh? You mean like cards? I'm not good with those."

"I'm not good with many things, except guessing hands. And this was a bad one."

"Do you always talk in riddles?" she asked, rubbing the back of her neck.

"What riddles?"

"I don't know, everything you say sounds like something you rehearsed. Are all artists like this, or are you special?"

"What do you think?"

"Well, I don't think I've ever met someone like you," she confessed.

"You've known me for less than a day, Moneypenny."

"And yet it feels like a decade in this place," she joked.

Jack made a sound between a laugh and a cough. He tapped the knife against his forehead, counting down the minutes before he could finally use it. The moment was coming…it was coming…it had to come.

"I wasn't," she suddenly said, afraid that if she stopped talking now, she wouldn't be able to open her mouth again. "I wasn't dealt a bad hand."

Jack remained quiet, waiting for her to continue, but she didn't.

"Care to elaborate?" he asked, inching forward.

"I'm only saying I don't think I had it worse than most people," she supplied.

"Now who's talking – how did you put it? – out of her ass?"

Penny stifled a snort.

"But I didn't. I got on fine, for the most part. I mean, I'm pretty sure my childhood sucked far less than yours."

The mention of his childhood made Jack smile.

"My story really got to you, huh? I mean, if you're saying that being an orphan was "getting on fine"…"

Penny recoiled from him. "I'm not saying that. It would be absurd to claim either of our childhoods was "ideal". I'm only being realistic. I never suffered abuse."

"We all suffer abuse, one way or another."

Penny considered his words. "It matters, though, who the abuser is."

Jack turned the knife in his palm. He smiled.

"Sharp as always, Moneypenny."

Even though she couldn't see him, she knew he was smirking. She could almost feel it. You can sense people's reactions better when you can't see them.

"Aren't you tired of calling me that?"

"Not in this century. So getting back to our initial point, you're saying, if I got your meaning right, that you being stuck in this shithole had nothing to do with your bad luck."

Penny frowned. "First of all, Bloomherst is not a "shithole". It just needs a good varnish and _definitely_ a new elevator. And second, I don't believe in luck."

Jack made a sound of disapproval. "I agree about the varnish. But someday, you'll reconsider the luck part."

"I don't think so."

Jack traced the deep lines of his palm with the sharp tip of his knife.

"You'll call it something else. But you'll believe in it."

"Okay, what makes you so sure I will?" she asked, pressing another napkin to her neck.

Jack chuckled. "Isn't it obvious? Because you met _me_. And once you've met me, your luck will change for sure."

Penny couldn't help laughing at that.

"Thanks. That cheered me up."

Jack grimaced, but kept his tone light. "I wasn't trying to cheer you up."

"Well, you did, either way."

She sensed movement in front of her. He was getting up.

"My legs are stiff," he explained.

She looked up at the darker shadow rising from the corner. Now that she could see exactly where he was, she no longer felt he was a disembodied voice.

"Um, hey, thanks again," she started awkwardly. "For what you did earlier."

Jack scratched the back of his neck with the knife.

"You mean that little trick? Don't think about it."

"Thanks, either way. You sort of saved my life, you know."

"Well, I always say, if you're gonna die, make it interesting. Think about all those poor bastards who've done nothing with their miserable lives. They get one chance to make something spectacular. A lousy elevator fall doesn't count."

"…are you talking about me here?"

"No way, Moneypenny. You're top notch. And top notch people go out with a bang. I'm sure if you weren't stuck here, your death would be mag-ni-fi-cent."

He drawled out the last syllables in a strange sing-song voice.

Penny felt a shiver run down her spine. She did not like this talk about her hypothetical death. She did not like it all.

"But I _am_ stuck here. We both are," she spoke casually, hoping to change the subject.

"That's right. So it's my responsibility to make sure you don't die like some reckless idiot. I'm the artist, remember? It's a "win-win", as you people in business like to call it."

Penny wrinkled her brow. "Wait, are you joking right now?"

Jack took a step toward her.

"I never joke."

Penny realized one second too late what was happening, before he grabbed her by the neck and slammed her into the wall.

She saw stars. A deeper blindness than darkness, brought on by the rush of blood to her head. He had hit her head hard and she felt dizzy.

"See, I told you something would happen," he mouthed into her ear.

Penny tried to scream, but her throat was closed off. His fingers had turned her skin red. She clawed at his hand with her nails, but then she felt something stabbing her in her stomach and she froze.

"I know what you're gonna say," Jack drawled, amused, "is that a knife jabbing me in the thigh or are you just happy to see me? The answer is both, sweetheart."

And Penny suddenly realized how he had pried the doors open. She realized why she had seen a glint in the dark.

And she realized, in a flash, that she had been horribly, horribly wrong.

Panic hit her in waves. _There's no one else here._ _No one._

"Don't – do – this," she managed to say hoarsely, still holding onto his hand.

Tears welled up in her eyes. One moment they were joking. The next he was someone else.

"_Don't do this, you're so much better than this, I won't tell anyone_," he whined in a mocking voice, pulling faces she couldn't see. "Is that what you're trying to say?"

Penny didn't care that he was making fun of her; raw terror had taken over. She had to get out of there, get away from him.

"Now don't act like this is a random act of violence, Moneypenny. Don't even _dare_. This was planned by you and me. The two of us, as a team," he continued calmly, keeping her in place while he trailed the knife across the fabric of her dress, making it hitch around her thighs.

Penny started thrashing uncontrollably, but he was stronger than she had thought.

"It's just like you put it in your speech. What was it, what was it again…?" he trailed off, trying to remember. "Ah! Right! _Success is not a solitary condition._ What's that, John Locke? I'm sure you didn't think of that one by yourself. But you're right, you know. We need each other to succeed."

Penny could only hear one word ringing in her head loud and clear.

_Run run run run run run run run run ru-_

"You got on this elevator, see? You got in with _me_. And you _really_ shouldn't have done that. Not _today_ of all days. But I didn't stop you. I figured, no harm done. Pretty girl won't have to die. But then the elevator had to stop. You know why? Because, as it turns out, you're coming with me, after all."

Penny wrenched her head away, but only managed to pull a muscle.

"You still don't get it. I can't have you walk out of here with your life. Because it's _mine_ now."

Penny raised one leg and tried to hit him in the groin, but he caught it between his legs and laughed.

"Easy there, Moneypenny. You're gonna make me blush."

When that didn't work, she reached out with her hands towards his face, but he ducked in time and only the tip of her fingers scraped his scars. She felt like throwing up.

"You can't get enough of me," he teased.

The dress had now rolled up to her stomach and the knife was running freely across her warm skin. She shut her eyes as tears ran down her cheeks freely.

This was a new lesson: the dark is not your thoughts. The dark is not loneliness. The dark is not emptiness. The dark is fullness. It's always _something_ and that something is out to get you.

At first she didn't feel the pain because a couple of scratches don't hurt too much, but then, when she felt the warm blood dripping down her thighs she realized it hurt, because she was being depleted, emptied out of herself. It was as if someone were pulling threads out of her skin.

She gasped when the knife pierced her even deeper, cutting across her pelvis. It was almost as if he were carving a shape into her.

And then the knife moved away from her skin and she almost felt relief.

Maybe if she distracted him, if she pulled the knife out of his hand without hurting herself, if she could reach her bag…

"Your body is a strange contradiction, isn't it?"

She froze for the second time.

"One moment, terror. The next, ecstasy."

The knife's blade was slowly and gently caressing her panties. It moved in circles across the thin fabric, sending vibrations troughout her body. It had found the damp spot in the middle and was toying with it, ruthlessly.

His breath was on her ear again.

"What do you think, should I pinch your stomach or your cunt? Your choice, Moneypenny."

"F-Fuck you," she managed to spit out.

He laughed. "That's what I thought."

He drew his wrist back and she could see it, even though it was dark, she could feel what he was about to do with a kind of mechanic precision.

He was getting ready for a real blow. No more pinching.

Her breath stopped. She grabbed the knife by the blade before it reached her and in one quick move turned it against him.

Jack crushed her chin in his hand as he banged her head against the wall, but she didn't let go of the blade, even when it cut deep through the skin of her palm.

She screamed as he tried to twist it out of her hand.

"Shit!" he cursed.

She had broken the skin of his upper arm and jabbed him painfully in the ribs. She was momentarily released.

Penny didn't wait.

She bolted out of his grip, but Jack was fast.

He pulled her by her dress and ripped half of it clean off of her. The fabric was hanging loosely around her thighs.

She wrenched away, screaming, but he made her trip and she collapsed on her knees.

She tried to scramble out of his way, but he'd already recovered his knife.

She howled in pain, trying to crawl away desperately. He had sunk the knife in the lower calf of her leg. He drew it out and prepared to stab her again.

Penny lunged forward and grabbed onto the first thing she found; his bag.

Reaching into it frantically, she pulled out a can and threw it at him.

Jack ducked.

She threw another, this one hitting him in the shin. He lowered the knife.

"That's some fine paint you're wasting, Moneypenny."

She started throwing out everything from his bag, searching for a weapon, anything to give her leverage.

Two more cans of paint. More clay. Wet rubber gloves. Bug spray. Five credit cards. A rotten apple core. Shaving cream. And there, right at the bottom, a key chain with a tiny flashlight on it.

And that, that was what undid her.

Beyond everything that had happened to her, this hurt the most. This blatant, cruel betrayal.

"You had light," she croaked, grabbing the chain. "You had light."

She turned it on and moved it around haphazardly, the small ray barely grazing through the dark. She stared, wide-eyed, at the strange and deformed clay bats that graced each wall, like a ghastly memory of her confinement. The shadows grew into grotesque shapes, converging with one another in one giant pair of wings.

Jack whistled as he looked around.

"Irony at its finest."

She stuck the light into his eye and saw his grim, otherworldly expression. She couldn't even tell anymore where his scars ended and his skin began.

His black orbs had rounded on her and she felt in that one moment, lying down on the floor, with the flashlight between her fingers and her leg bleeding everywhere, that she was going to die.

Panic overwhelmed her once more, but a new feeling, a different, more powerful feeling rose from the depths. She dropped the flashlight and its ray landed on one of the bats.

Rage consumed her.

He had _betrayed_ her. He had played her for a fool.

"Do it, then! Get it over with, you coward!" she yelled. "It's the only thing you can do! Do it!"

She was resolved to jump out of the elevator rather than give into him. No matter what, she wasn't going to let him do this to her. She moved closer to the edge.

Could she jump? Could she actually do it?

Jack only watched her. Studied her, more like it. She could have sworn he looked disappointed, as if she had not yet grasped an essential truth.

"Coward? No, Moneypenny. A coward would slice you and dice you and be done with you. But I already told you. You're coming with me. And I'm going with you. We're doing this together."

Penny gripped the edge of the elevator.

"What are you saying?"

"Success is not a solitary condition," he recited ceremoniously.

And somehow, she understood. She finally understood. And she wished she hadn't.

"You're going to kill me. And then you're going to kill yourself."

Jack smiled. "That would be the plan."

It made sense now; his strange behavior, his cryptic words, his childhood confession, his bats…Once that elevator had stopped, he had decided to die right there and then. He had prepared his altar. And he was going to sacrifice them both.

"You're – you're insane. You're full-on crazy."

Jack tilted his head back. "Insane? But you understand. Which makes you…kinda loony too, doesn't it?"

"What – what was the initial plan?" she asked, applying pressure to her bleeding leg. Without a tourniquet, this was the best she could do.

Jack wiped the blood off the blade. Her blood.

"Ah, _that_. That plan was to come back from work, put on good clothes, shower, shave and end it, in the comfort of my own bathroom. But plans change. Especially since my boss didn't go down easy."

"W-What did you do?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"I, uh, I sort of overdid it. He wasn't alone. Had to off his kid too. Didn't mean to. Nine year-old. Bright chump. Thought he'd be at school. Ah, can't be helped, Moneypenny. You don't mean to, but you have to finish it. Once you start something, you owe it to them to finish it."

_I owe it to you, too_, he seemed to say.

And Penny realized he really was going to do it. He had no motivation to stay alive. Whatever had happened to him in the past, it had driven him to extreme measures. If he didn't do it now, the police would soon be onto him and he'd probably get locked up in Arkham Asylum for the terminally insane.

And Jack, he didn't seem to think he was insane.

"This town with all these sick people and all their sick kids hanging on to you, begging you. It's like they're all asking for a tragedy. Have you seen their faces, Moneypenny? Look at them. Look at those crazy eyes. All those fuckers around you, they're never happy until something wrecks them. They're chasing after death. Not just any death, not just any tragedy. I told you, they want something _spectacular._

"And I want to. I wanna offer them something spectacular. I wanna put on a show. I wanna blow their brains out. Cirque du Soleil. But I can't. Can't do it on my own. It's only me, you see. And here, I've got you. One piece of Gotham. And that's it. You and I, Moneypenny. The rest, well, someone else will have to entertain the rest."

She had trained for this all her life. She had been trained to make snap decisions. She had had to act fast many times. Her mind was accustomed to working five times faster than normal during crises. This was a task for an overachiever.

He had killed two people, as far as she knew. A man and a child.

He had been sloppy, maybe. Surely.

The police must already be on the search for him.

Which meant they were going to come here, to Bloomherst, and search this building.

_A way out. A way out._

_I have to keep him alive until they arrive._

Because she also knew, her life depended on his now.

"Okay...okay," she spoke and her eyes darted wildly about the floor, trying to grab onto something. Anything.

"I get the shaving cream. I get the gloves. I get the bats. What about the paint? What's the use for that?"

* * *

**A/N**: So I think by now you all realize this Joker isn't...the Joker yet. Not fully. I know this is not exactly how most stories portray him, but I have my own version of his backstory and his evolution. I hope you'll stick with me for the ride. Penny plays a big part in his formation, obviously. Let me know what you think!


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